Chapter Twenty #2
“Hey,” Drea interjected. “Enough. You’re allowed to be hurt, Cujo. What Evelyn did was cruel. It will do neither of you any good to pretend you aren’t. But maybe you need to give her time to heal a little more before you have that conversation.”
Cujo rested his forehead on her chest. “I’m glad you’re here, Drea.”
She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed the top of his head. “Me, too.”
They stayed like that for a while longer, lost in their own thoughts.
After several minutes, Cujo pulled back. “Do you feel like walking me through what you found out in the beginning? The reports and the stuff that dude in Alberta sent you.”
“You mean about the drill site, the reserve size … all the environmental stuff?”
“Did I tell you I love it when you talk geo-dirty to me?”
“Cujo.” She slapped his arm. “Of course, but why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe if I know what my mom was involved in, it might help me … figure this shit out.”
Cujo ran his hands down her side and gripped her hips. She could feel the desperation through his fingers. She understood the need to find some kind of common ground with someone you had nothing in common with. She’d been trying, unsuccessfully, for years with her mom.
“Okay. Let me clean up this mess, and we can start.”
“Will you come with me? To see Mom tomorrow?”
“Of course. Whatever you need, Brody.”
He let her go, and Drea collected the bowls. She placed them next to the sink and opened the dishwasher.
“You know, Drea, I hope you’ll feel like this is home, eventually. I like you here, but I get you have things you need to figure out first.”
Drea smiled. “Well, you do have a nice bed. And you cook great meals I’ve never heard of.”
“It’s still about the bed, huh?”
“And perhaps the man who sleeps in it,” she conceded with a smile.
* * *
“Brody, Drea.” Evelyn sat up in bed. “I’m so glad you came back.”
There was a look of hope on her face and it irritated him. He’d slept in fits, tied up in knots as to how to broach the conversation with her, but nothing seemed right. He remembered Drea’s words. That he had a right to be angry.
“Why did you leave us?” There it was. The question that had plagued him for twenty-four years was finally in the open.
The eight-year-old child trapped inside him panicked. Please don’t let it be me. Please don’t let it be me.
The monotone beeps and unintelligible pages of the hospital made an appropriate B-movie soundtrack. Drea led them to plastic chairs, but Cujo didn’t take his eyes off Evelyn.
The silence dragged as he waited for his mother to answer his question.
“I didn’t leave you.” Her voice was stronger today. “Not in the way you think.”
“Really? ’Cos I could swear you weren’t there for the last twenty-four years.” Coming here to get answers was a mistake. He was still too raw.
“I was so young. So … unfulfilled. I was suffocating.”
His stomach tightened. “So, you didn’t want us?”
She let out a bitter laugh. “No, Brody. That’s not it. I made a monumental mistake.” She sighed. “I knew this day would come, but I am no more prepared for it. Did your dad tell you how we met?”
Cujo shook his head. “He never really said much. Just you met on your way home from a rally.”
“I turned seventeen the day before. He was twenty. Funny. Charming.” She smiled, her eyes distant as she recalled the memory.
“I was desperate to become an activist of some kind. I dreamed of chaining myself to a tractor or the fence of the White House. Such an idealist. I’d have joined the Plowshare Movement in a heartbeat.”
She looked at Cujo, his facial features obviously reflecting the fact he had no idea what she was talking about. “Daniel Berrigan? Philip? King of Prussia, Pennsylvania nuclear plant break-in?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, no.”
“Fascinating story about … never mind. I digress. All of a sudden, I was pregnant.” His mom shrugged hopelessly. She sniffed, reached for a tissue.
Cujo rested his elbows on his knees. “Did you want me?”
“It wasn’t that I didn’t want you. I was excited by the possibility of being a mom. I just dreamed of so much more happening before I had you. Your dad was a good man. So when he promised we could make it work, I believed him.”
“Did you ever think of getting rid of me? Of having an abortion?” If they’d not had him, how different would his mom and dad’s lives have been?
“Never. Alec tried to do right by us. And I tried to pretend that I was happy, building a family. You were the cutest little thing with those big blue eyes that could melt my heart.” Evelyn smoothed the hospital bed sheet over her lap.
“But I needed more,” she continued. “I wanted it so badly I became blinded by it. I resented Alec for making me stay home. I resented the very things I should have adored as a mother. Bathing the three of you, putting on Band-Aids.” She started to weep softly. “Loving you.”
Eyes burning with tears, he looked up at the ceiling and studied the silver framework holding up crappy-looking polystyrene ceiling tiles. Gradually, the tears receded, but the lump was still firmly lodged in the back of his throat.
“I was going through the motions,” she continued. “I loved you with a passion, Brody. I just couldn’t be there for you and remain whole. I was terrified my life would never amount to anything.”
He understood that feeling. After his surgery, he’d felt the same way. “Why didn’t you keep in touch with us?”
“At first, it was too damn painful. I hitched a ride to Charlotte that night. Made my way to Boston over the next few days. I knew I had to be away from you because it would be too easy to run back.” Evelyn poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the table next to the bed.
She sipped slowly, lost in her own thoughts.
“Was it worth it? Being away from us? Because it sure didn’t feel worth it when I had my first round of chemo in my last year of high school.”
“Brody,” she exclaimed. “No.”
He watched the color drain from her face, yet got no satisfaction from it.
“Are you okay now? What happened? Are you—”
“Not now.” Cujo leaned back in the chair, rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. He didn’t come here to talk about his cancer. “How did you end up doing what you’re doing? Whatever it is.”
“I enrolled at Boston University, threw myself into my Environmental Analysis and Policy degree. When I focused on academics, I couldn’t think about you.
When I did, I’d find myself at a travel agent’s trying to find a way back to you.
While I was in school, the Exxon Valdez environmental disaster happened—you know, the supertanker that ran aground in Alaska.
It bothered me that no one was holding these super-companies accountable.
I worried what kind of world I’d be leaving you, leaving my grandchildren.
After I graduated, I realized what I needed to do. ”
The story sounded much like Drea’s, except Drea had stayed. She’d put her own needs second to her mom’s and made the best of life. She hadn’t bailed on her family.
“So why didn’t you come home?”
“I headed for Capitol Hill. I was ready to change the world, one environmental policy at a time, so I networked the crap out of that place. I met with every member of BU’s alumni, contacted Clay Shaw, who stood for Florida in the House of Representatives, even though he was a Republican. ” She laughed at her own joke.
She was no longer crying. The tears had stopped. She was confident, like all the bumps were simply that. Obstacles to be overcome.
What the fuck? Was she even sorry? Cujo squeezed Drea’s hand. “I think we should go.”
“What? Wait, please. Let me explain,” Evelyn begged.
“Why, so you can tell me your life story. I asked why you didn’t come home, and you tell me about your first job.”
“I’m trying to tell you what I did, Brody, because I want you to be proud of me. I gave up our family for a bigger cause.”
“Well you don’t need to make it sound so fucking easy.” Cujo stood and shoved the chair out of the way.
* * *
“Easy? You think my choice was easy? You have no idea. I left my children behind,” Evelyn sobbed.
“My body ached for you. Every day. But I knew the path my life was going to take me would put you at risk. You want to hear I regret it? Of course I do. But by the time I realized that, it was too late. You were grown.”
The pain in Evelyn’s words cut through Drea, but it was Cujo she was concerned about. He held her gaze, his eyes brimming with torment. She held out her hand and nodded her head. He straightened the chair and sat again, before gripping her hand in his.
“You end up working in Washington, then?” Drea asked Evelyn.
Evelyn took a deep breath and smoothed a hand over her hair. It was a tic of Cujo’s, and in spite of the heartbreaking conversation, she smiled.
“Kind of. I met with a man who worked for an advocacy group. An environmental group with significant funding. We talked about how environmental lawmaking had stagnated.” She turned to look at Cujo, her eyes piercing his with excitement.
“Did you know that in the nineteen-seventies, all the major environmental legislations and amendments were passed? The Clean Air Act. The Clean Water Act. Even the Endangered Species Act. It’s true.
” She nodded at him. “Oh, people argue that the U.S. is leading the charge, but in reality, we tweak them every now and then. We haven’t been as progressive as we should. ”
The moment reminded her of watching Titanic. Even though she’d known the story, she’d found herself wishing for a different ending. She didn’t like where this was heading. It was way out of their league.
“Anyway, I took the job. Shit happened. Clinton and Gore got in. They preached environment, but Clinton was more focused on the ratification and signing of the NAFTA agreement. Lobbying was still painfully slow. The Republicans took control of the house. And there was a huge gap in how companies viewed environmentalism. I wanted to change that.”